winter air
split by a jay's scolding —
we set the year down

we set the year down

to give our shoulders a rest —

someone lights a sparkler

squirrels sitting up
to make sure we're no danger —
house sparrows check, too

quick rising fog
rolling out over the fields —
another virus scare

backyard fire pit —
I carefully carry
some smoke inside

winter rain
washing out 
our wish for snow

sky-filling snow geese —
each one still able to find
their own place to land

neighborhood puddles
full of Christmas lights —
we change plans again

no one seems to mind
when a baby breaks the silence —
Meeting for Worship

on the lookout
for a good sledding hill —
two northern girls

the space between
my footprints growing longer —
almost flying now

winter solstice -- 
we make a joyful noise
over and over

working together
to put up a string of lights —
hold the ladder steady

its tail tip looking 
like a brush dipped in black ink —
red fox running

no sign of the sun —
with every step we sink
deeper into earth

nearly full moon —
we wait for the virus
to come full circle

prowling orange cat —
a bluejay follows overhead
shrieking the alarm

one last push
to put the leaves in piles —
front yard bunny looks on

mud from the garden
brought in on boots —
we take turns forgiving

how sure can we be
that the moon is still there?
clouds and more clouds

watching for snow
while I look for kindling —
the idea of home

Colorado spruce —
the scent of childhood Christmases
fills in for our parents

how long will we wait
to know that we've made it through?
(traveling in the dark)

our usual routes —
my night intersects
with the fox's

something to keep me
company on a long walk —
the wren's winter song

every plan
becomes something to lay down —
still, we look up

cold gusting wind
looking for a way in —
check the locks again

new moon in winter —
we sketch out a plan
for next year's garden

every branch bare now —
if we read the ending first
will it take the sting out?

the fox slips away
leaving me to conjure safety
all by myself

a new variant —
we wrap a string of lights
around our maple

the sound of rain
trickling along after —
names of the missing